My hands cupped
waiting, in my stillness
silently waiting
for the bread, the offering
his life for me, that I would be free
Tasting the bread
the symbol of his life
my life restored
the cup of his blood
the one who came to die
becoming the lamb on the cross
Humbled at the rail
in the awesome act of grace
his love for us
while we wallow in sin
June 9, 2010
written after giving permission
for a church in England
to use the following poem,
posted to FaithWriters this morning
—–
The Smell of His Blood
Raising the bread from the chalice
the wine splashing
running down my hand
the smell of his blood
as I sat in prayer
after the sharing the
bread and the cup
Tangible, real memory
washing over me,
as the tears ran down my face
The sacrifice of the savior
made real once again,
in the smell of his blood
lingering on my trembling hands.
April 25, 2009
Luke 24:13-35
Walk to Emmaus
Copyright by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010. Contact me at Ray Foss
for usage.
(Raymond A. Foss)
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